Our good, ol' dog...

How old is Casey? Almost 11! Tonight Maggie and I got out the original folder of all of Casey's documents. I showed Mags the adoption information about Casey and the funny pics of when she was a crazy pup. Maggie was interested in why we had to adopt our pooch, so we visited the Central Indiana Lab Rescue's website and read through the stories of the sweet labbies waiting for good homes. Of course there was a "Maggie" and a "Molly", to which Mairin replied, "Why doesn't anyone name their dogs after me?"- She had a good point...

All of this nostalgia got me thinking, what will we do when Casey moves on to the doghouse in the sky? I remember with great clarity finding Casey on the pages of the CILRA website. I loved everything about her- her golden fur, her frisky grin, her long, lean legs. I was even taken by her name. When I met her she was skiddish and scared. She jumped and ran from sheer nervousness. It took her years to get over that nervousness. She was still perfect.

She had her Marley moments- far too many. Like when she ate my couch, the drywall, the carpet. When she broke the bottle of Chardonnay FROM FRANCE that I was saving for that "special occassion" to then jump THROUGH the window's screen and hop into my neighbor's waiting trunk (true story). Then there's the time she "ran away" only to wind up on my neighbor's back porch, barking to be let in (I honestly think she thought she was home- their place looks just like ours)! We made flyers and everything! There's a reason we had to drop out of obedience school...
And my favorite- the time we brought Maggie's blanket home from the hospital. All good, first-time parents do this. Take home the blanket, let the dog smell it- you know, get them ready for the impending arrival of their replacement... Casey TORE-UP the blanket. Shredded it into pieces. That was alarming...

We brought Maggie home to meet her canine sister. Through all of the uncertainty of a firstborn, Casey never waivered in her love, compassion and patience. She is a true lab. While Maggie was in her crib, Casey lay at her door. As Maggie began to crawl, Casey let her poke and pull. And when Maggie began to walk, Casey got out of the way fast. Then came Mairin. The story rewrote itself. Casey learned to find their crumbs, the crackers in their hands, the candy in their pockets. Casey learned to nudge without knocking, to take without biting, to leave gracefully. The girls learned to love.

Now we've added Molly, and Casey, old as she's become, still knows what to do. She still lays at the nursery door. She still allows the pokes and prods. Molly knows what doggies say (Oof, oof) and when she sees that yellow coat in the morning she beams! She loves her "Cakey".

As we looked at the dogs, young and old, Maggie asked if we'd get another Casey from the rescue when our Casey dies. It's hard to explain to a seven year old that there isn't one... maybe we'll get a "Mairin"!